Futility
Move him into the sun
Move him into the sun
Gently its touch awoke him once
Always it woke him, even in France
Move him into the sun
Move him into the sun
Gently its touch awoke him once
Whispering of fields unsown
O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth’s sleep at all?
Are limbs, so dear achieved, are sides,
Still warm, too hard to stir?
Move him into the sun
Move him into the sun
Move him into the sun
Gently its touch awoke him once
Whispering of fields unsown
O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth’s sleep at all?
Are limbs, so dear achieved, are sides,
Still warm, too hard to stir?
O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth’s sleep at all?
Are limbs, so dear achieved, are sides,
Still warm, too hard to stir?
Move him into the sun (Move him into the sun)
Move him into the sun (Move him into the sun)
Move him into the sun (Move him into the sun)
Move him into the sun (Move him into the sun)
Words by Wilfred Owen/Music by Virginia Astley © Warner Bros. Music Ltd